A Glance Away
by M. Bautista
Summary: Axel, a college professor, didn't believe in love at first sight. In fact, he hardly believed in love. But all it ever takes to loosen beliefs like that up is the right person. In this case, a certain blue eyed student.


**LOL, so srsly, like halfway through writing this, i suddenly caught myself writing in third person pov. I did that like, a gazillion times. lol, i guess my natural writing style gravitates towards third person. Though technically, the first feature length story i wrote was in second person pov, and it took a while to wrench myself out of that habit. I guess i just been writin in third for too long.**

**Um, this is something i was toying around with even while i was writing Axis. The whole teacher/student scenario wasn't played upon too heavily there, so i thought i'd do a oneshot of it. Im a sucker for a good teacher/student romance.**

**Yaoi. Don't like it, don't read it, but don't bitch to me about it. If you do like it, I'll be thrilled if you would read. If my story didn't meet your standards for literary and stylistic reasons, feel free to bitch away.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, or any of its characters, or places, or names of places that might use. That's square enix and disney's thing. :(**

**A Glance Away: A Kingdom Hearts Fanfic**

**Rating: Mature (for certain scene(s))**

**Word Count: 10,793**

**Characters: Take a guess.

* * *

**

_Fuck._

It was crowded again as usual. The airport. One of my least favorite places in the world. Bad smells, loud noises, sometimes displeasing sights.

Not to mention that nothing good ever came from my taking a trip to the airport. It was usually to pick up some unknown and/or disliked relative of mine that had just come to town. I'd have to spend hours waiting around for this person, and hours being bumped into by strangers.

The only thing that gave me any sort of advantage was my appearance; I was considered intimidating by most. Vibrantly red, spiky hair, unusually tall, and facial tattoos was usually enough to cause most people to veer out of my way when walking.

I sighed, looking around the terminal for signs of some niece of mine (who I hadn't seen in four years) who was supposed to be staying at my house until she found a place of her own. Her name escaped me at the moment, but nine times out of ten, my relatives identified me out of the crowd before I identified them.

I checked my watch, growing agitated by the wait. Did it _always _have to take them ten years? Twilight Town's only airport wasn't even that big.

I began tapping my foot on the ground impatiently when suddenly I felt something hard, round, and heavy collide painfully, very painfully, into the back of head.

"OUCH—" I managed to refrain from cursing aloud, "GEEZ!" I turned around and saw a short brunet with outrageous spikes on the top of his head running over to me with a horror stricken face. He peered up nervously at me after bending down to pick up the offending object—a bowling ball.

"Sorry!" he said nervously, inspecting me up and down to make sure any other part of me wasn't injured. "It slipped out of my hand and I—"

I held up the hand that wasn't glued to my head to stop him from speaking another word. My head was throbbing enough as it was without his loud voice ringing in my ears.

"It's ok..." I said through gritted teeth, "It's alright."

He didn't look convinced, and still had that worried expression plastered across his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "Let me take you to the doctor at least, I- I can cover the bill if you're not insured. We-"

I held my hand up again.

"I said I'm alright."

His giant blue eyes gazed up at me anxiously, as though assessing if I were telling the truth or not.

"Sora!" I heard a voice call from behind the brunet, "C'mon. We're gonna miss the plane. He said he was alright."

I looked up to find the owner of the voice. A blonde, just as short as this brunet, with milder spikes carrying enough luggage for a lifetime one of the airport's carts.

Something in my mind burst. My chest was on fire.

The inexplicable need to take him, claim him as my own, as his eyes connected with mine in that brief second was overwhelming. It had only been a fleeting glance. He gave me one of those glances where he registered there was an object there, but he didn't really see it. He didn't really _see _me.

So then why was I so enraptured by him?

"Ok, ok!" The young man called Sora said, "If you're really alright, I should get going." He started backing away, stumbling into a few passerby's as he did, "Again, I'm really sorry!"

He turned around to join that blonde, picking up a bowling bag which I hadn't noticed laying on the floor, and scurried off towards the flight gates.

There was another unexplainable urge again. The urge to follow. The urge to stop him.

Without telling them to do so, I felt my feet begin to move automatically when a hand suddenly clasped over my arm. I turned around and saw a short, dark haired girl with blue eyes in a pink dress was smiling up at me.

"Axel!" she smiled warmly at me, "Long time no see. Sorry to keep you waiting, it was chaos trying to navigate my way through here. You said to meet you in Terminal 1, so I tried to read a map in the airport and accidentally went to Terminal 7 because part of the number was rubbed off and I thought it was one..."

I was barely listening to the girl, my heart still reeling from the overpowering desire it had just been subjected to. I threw a brief glance back in the direction I had seen him go, and was surprised at how strong my disappointment was when I saw that he was no longer there.

"...out soon."

"Yeah, ok," I nodded, just going with the flow of her conversation. "Uh, c'mon. My car's in the parking lot across the street. Five more minutes and I'll get charged for another hour."

Politely, as I'd been raised, I helped her with most of her luggage as we trekked in silence to my gas guzzling SUV. As I loaded her things into his truck, I caught her looking at the car with an impressed look.

"I'm guessing another hour's charge wouldn't put _too _much of a dint in your pocket," she commented, getting into the car once I had disarmed the alarm.

I smiled slyly in her direction, getting into the car myself and revving the engine.

"What is it you do again?" she asked as we were pulling out of the parking lot.

"Teacher," I responded concisely.

"Oh," she said, pretending to be interested, though miserably failing. I smiled, amused. At some length, and a few blocks down, she asked, "What grade?"

I slowed to a stop at a red light and reached for my pack of cigarettes in the middle compartment of my car.

"I teach at the University," I said, pulling a cigarette out and holding it up for her to see, "You mind?"

She shook her head and I rolled down our windows. I wasn't really a heavy smoker, just whenever I needed to calm down. I discovered early on in life (at 15 years old) that nothing calmed me down quite like a good cigarette.

I pulled my silver lighter out of pocket and lit the cigarette just as the light turned green again.

"Uh..." she began tentatively, "Do, do you... Can I have one too?"

I took my eyes off of the road to look at her, a skeptical look on my face.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"18!" she huffed indignantly, "Old enough."

"You ever had one before?" I asked her.

Her indignant scowl was suddenly replaced by wavering determination directed at the floor of the vehicle.

I couldn't help but laugh and passed her my lighter.

"Have at it then," I shrugged, breathing the smoke out of my window.

I looked up at the sun's position in the sky. It was a smoky blue—almost night fall. It reminded me of the blue in that blonde's eyes, only not quite as bright.

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought and took drag from my cigarette. Whoever he was, he was gone. He got on some plane to somewhere, and judging from all the luggage he had with him, it was a one way flight. Even if he was coming back, the chances of running into him again in this huge metropolitan were slim to none. It would take some divine intervention.

Coughing, hacking, and spluttering suddenly invaded my thoughts as I looked over to see the girl choking, one hand clutching at her chest and the other holding the cigarette out of the window.

When the coughing subsided and she finally caught her breath again, she looked my way before quickly looking out of the window again.

I couldn't help but blatantly laugh in her face.

"Takes some getting used to," I smirked, turning the corner.

She made a disgusted face and put the cigarette out in the ash tray I had custom built into the car's center divider. This day and age, built in ash trays are hard to come by as a standard in cars, with all the anti-smoking campaigns.

"Maybe some other time," she suggested.

I kept on smoking as I drove, a little more than eager to get home and call it a night. Classes for the fall semester started the next day, and I knew by the end of the day tomorrow, I would be completely exhausted and burnt out. First days always seemed to have that effect on me.

"How old are you?" the kid suddenly asked.

I looked at her quizzically.

"27," I said through a cloud of smoke, "Why?"

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"You don't look it at all!" she said, now examining me more thoroughly.

I refrained from rolling my eyes as my cigarette got unsmokably tiny. I got that a lot. Exactly how old was a 27 year old supposed to look anyway? Crow's feet and laugh lines?

"Thanks," I grunted, tossing the butt out of my window.

"You need your doctorate in order to teach at a university, don't you?" she asked, almost rhetorically, "You're 27 and you already have your PhD?"

I shrugged at the amazement in her voice. This was also a road that I went down a lot with people. It wasn't so astounding to me, and it wouldn't be to them if they knew the whole story. I skipped the eighth grade, and took college classes while in high school. By the time I had my diploma, I also had my associates degree. From there, a doctorate was a 9 year hop, skip, and jump away.

"They didn't tell me you were a genius," she said, still sounding amazed.

I inwardly scoffed. My IQ is 112.

Dead average.

The rest of the way to my apartment was mostly me listening to her talk. I asked her how her flight was, and it was like opening to floodgates. She had the gift of gab and no talent for linear conversation. She was all over the place.

And in the midst of it all, my thoughts kept being intruded by those piercing cerulean eyes. His amazingly clear skin. Those perfect looking lips.

I pulled out another cigarette.

* * *

The university campus was huge. Unmercifully so. Even the faculty parking closest to the Language Arts building (the building I worked in) was a good seven minute walk. Fifteen minutes if I was feeling lazy that day.

My first class started at twelve in the afternoon. So of course I got there at 12:15.

The thing about a Tuesday/Thursday college level English class that starts in the middle of the day is that it will always be jam packed. Full of students who are enrolled, students who are waitlisted, students just there to see if they're interested in the class or not.

I walked into the classroom and was not surprised to see every seat in the house taken, and at least 15 students standing up.

"Everyone not enrolled or on the waitlist," I began, before I could even reach my desk, "Get out now."

Almost everyone standing ruefully vacated the premises, throwing me a few nasty glares on the way out, now leaving just three students on their feet.

"Everyone who doesn't like second hand smoke," I said, setting my briefcase on my desk, "Get out now."

After a few moments of confused stares and whispers, another ten students left.

There were now seven empty seats in the class.

"Congratulations, survivors," I said, opening my briefcase and taking out the syllabi to pass around, "consider yourselves enrolled in my class. Let's see if you don't drop by the end of the week."

I was about to move to pass them around when someone walked through the open door.

I lazily turned to see who it was and nearly had a heart attack.

Without stopping to so much glance my way, the same blonde I saw from the airport walked by me and sat in one of the seats towards the back.

My voice caught in my throat a minute as my eyes were locked onto him. I could see now that he had headphones in his ears. Usually in this situation, I'd immediately kick the audacious student out.

But not him. I couldn't even bring myself to approach him.

Whoever he was.

I suddenly remembered where I was.

"Um, this is the syllabus for the semester," I spoke more calmly than I felt, "take one, pass it back. Send the extras to the front."

I handed handfuls of the papers to the first people of each row, trying my hardest to keep my eyes off of the student. How old was he? Was he a freshman or a senior? Somewhere in between? Was he legal? Am I a pedophile?

I shook my head and turned away from the class, quickly pulling out a cigarette and sticking it in my mouth. I lit it clumsily and let out a deep breath of smoke, not liking the effect this... this _kid _was having on me.

_At_ _least I can find out his name now, _I thought pathetically, and for the first time today pulled out my roster to glance over. What if his name wasn't on the list? Was he even enrolled or waitlisted?

I took my cigarette out of my mouth for a minute to speak to the class.

"My name is Axel, call me nothing but that. This is Literature 2A, an advanced class," I began, not taking my eyes off the roster. "I expect that you can write a decent essay at this point in your academic lives, if you've looked over the syllabus, you will see that there will be plenty of them. Don't like it, leave now."

I dared a glance up at the student and saw that he had at least taken out his headphones by now. He was gazing in a bored expression up at the clock above my head. I looked back down at the roster and cleared my throat.

"I'll be taking role now. If you're on the waitlist, come by after class today and pick up an add slip. If you don't get one today..." my eyes looked up involuntarily towards the blonde, and I swear my heart got lodged in my chest when I saw him looking dead at me.

I cleared my throat again before taking a nice, long drag from my cigarette, already almost half its original size.

"If you don't get one today," I somehow managed to continue after exhaling, "You won't get one at all."

The way things were going, I didn't think I could make it to the end of the class. Usually I would assign an essay by the end of the first class, but making it to the end of my first lecture seemed a bit of an impossibility for me with him in the class.

I was smoking feverously while the class was still passing papers around until my cigarette was gone. I set what was left of it on my desk.

"June," I said, only reading the first name of the student.

A dainty hand went up in the middle of the class and I marked her present.

"Ti..." I frowned at the strange name, "Tiberious?"

A buff looking guy in the front row raised his hand. I looked back down at the roster, making a mental note not to make fun of _that _guy about his name

I went through the list of until there were only six names left.

I frowned at another weird name.

"Roxas," I said blandly.

I looked up to see a hand go up. _His _hand. That blonde haired, blue eyed student who was making sure that no one was getting an essay today, raised his hand.

_Roxas_, I thought to myself, almost dreamily.

I went through the rest of the names now very quickly and then dismissed the class, telling them that the first essay on the syllabus was cancelled before they went.

"Anyone with further questions can stay behind to ask me," I informed, "add slips are on my desk."

I turned around from the now bustling mass of students and tried to discreetly light another cigarette to smoke.

When I heard the last of the shuffling feet disperse, I felt tensed shoulders (that I didn't even know were tensed in the first place) relax and I let out a loud sigh of relief.

"Is this is your first year teaching?"

I jumped in shock at the voice, inadvertently losing my cigarette to the floor.

I turned to see the student—Roxas– now sitting in the dead center of the front row, backpack on the desk and eyes staring straight at me.  
All I could do for a few moments, moments which seemed to stretch for eternity, was stare back. When I regained good enough sense, I smashed my fallen cigarette against the floor with my shoe.

"My third," I corrected him, backing away a little to prevent myself from doing anything I would regret, "Why?"

Roxas shrugged noncommittally.

"You seem kinda jumpy is all," he observed, "and a nervous smoker."

Roxas said that last part just as I was reaching for another cigarette.

I dropped my hand and went around my desk to begin packing my papers back up.

"Did you have a question?" I asked him, avoiding direct eye contact.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that he rose to his feet.

"Not particularly," I heard him say. "It's just easier to stay behind and wait for the stampede to be over before trying to leave class."

I was gathering the last of my papers when suddenly something was stuck in front of my face.

"The extra syllabi," Roxas said, smiling my way.

He was closer to me than he'd ever been now, and I could see his face more clearly than ever. I could smell his scent – his ridiculously fragrant scent. It was intoxicating—even more so than the rest of him.

My hand went for them, loosely keeping them from falling, as that intense desire for Roxas burned within me again. Just when I felt the last of my self-control crumbling away, Roxas began heading for the exit.

"Bye Professor," Roxas said, not bothering to look back.

When the last of Roxas was out of my vision, I all but collapsed over my desk.

I'd never been so attracted to another soul in my life—male or female, young or old, blue or orange. And it was absolutely ridiculous. It seemed humanly impossible to want someone else so badly. I was never one to believe in love at first sight... but something different was definitely going on here.

* * *

"...You have that look on that my mom usually wears when she hasn't gotten laid in a while."

I stared up incredulously at the girl, standing in the middle of my living room, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth. It was all I could do to keep from gagging at the visual of my sister getting laid.

"What a lovely comparison," I nodded stiffly.

She walked around the coffee table and threw my legs off the couch so that she could sit down.

I was too lost in my thoughts to bother to protest.

"What's on your mind?" she asked, picking up the TV remote, turning it on, and flipping through the stations.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"You expect me to unload my thoughts on an 18 year old girl?" I asked, blowing out a puff of smoke.

She folded her arms and looked around the room, as though searching for something.

"I don't see anyone else you can share things with," she said, "and it's not healthy to keep these things inside."

I was about to point out the fallacies in her comments, but she stared at me, hope and anticipation lighting up her eyes.

"Ok," I said, deciding to humor her, "I have this friend-"

"Oh, the friend card," she said, plopping her feet on the coffee table.

I rolled my eyes and leant forward, setting my cigarette in the ash tray and throwing her feet off the table.

"Yes, the friend card," I repeated, "This friend... one day, sees someone... and instantly wants to..."

I paused and looked at her warily. Is this really the type of thing I should be talking to someone ten years younger than-

"Fuck them?"

My eyes widened at her bluntness, momentarily taken aback, but I quickly recovered.

"Yea," I said, "in a manner of speaking. Before this friend even has an opportunity to speak to that person, however, they're gone. When he goes into work the next day—"

"Oh my gawd!" she squealed. "You're attracted to one of your students? No way! This is the stuff teenage dramas are made of!"

She quickly silenced herself once I threw a look her way though.

"Sorry," she said, "go on."

"It... My friend," I went on, keeping up the useless facade, "is... over... it's too strong..."

I was talking a little more to myself now than to her now. "And it makes no sense."

"I think you—your friend—should go for it," she said.

I looked at her.

"It's not that simple..."

"Why not?" She frowned.

I returned her frown for a minute before picking up my cigarette again.

Several reasons came to mind. He was probably considerably younger than me. He was my student, I was his teacher. My code of personal ethics had led me to turn down many attractive (and very willing) students before. There was also the fact that desire permeated my body to the point of virtual paralysis whenever I saw him.

But I realized they were all really excuses.

Admittedly, that last one was a pretty good excuse, but not something I couldn't work around.

What was stopping me, exactly?

I looked back at the girl and took a deep breath from my cigarette.

"What's your name, kid?"

She frowned.

"I've been here almost two days and you didn't remember my name?" she asked.

I shrugged, breathing out.

"You're my sister's kid." That was all I needed to know.

"Which only makes your lapse in memory worse," she frowned, "It's Kairi."

Kairi. Hm.

"I have a class this evening at the junior college," she spoke, standing up, "So I'm heading out now."

"Need a ride?" I offered, hoping she'd turn my offer down.

"Nah," she smiled. _Yes!_ "A friend in the same class is picking me up. I'll be back at nine!"

And locking the door behind her, she left.

Left me with my thoughts of Roxas. His hair. His eyes. His scent. His lips. How smooth his skin felt beneath all his layers of clothes. How his mouth would feel around me. How he would feel in my arms, how it would feel to be inside of him.

What sort of sounds he would make as I thrust in and out of him, harder and faster every time. How his face would look as he climaxed. Would he call my name?

My breath hitched in my throat as my fingers reached for my awakening erection and began stroking for dear life as those thoughts flashed through my mind. Imagining that the heavenly pressure around me was the inside of Roxas. Fantasizing, hoping, that it could become a reality.

Then my thoughts began to leave me and all I could do was feel. Feel the building towards the end that I was working for, but simultaneously hoping would never come. It felt... good. Real good. _Too _good.

How long had I been there like that, pumping towards a climax before I came with a loud cry of the blonde's name? When was the last time I actually called someone's name out? I heaved the heaviest sigh I'd ever heard. That had felt way too good for it just to have been my hand.

I opened my eyes some time later, and I wondered when the last time was that I had flown solo before getting up to clean up the mess.

* * *

I managed to get through my second class with Roxas with a lot more ease than the first one. To make up for not assigning their first essay, I doubled the length of their second essay. When I dismissed class, I noticed Roxas lingering behind again.

Before I entered the classroom, I had resolved to hold him after class and ask him out, but at the sight of him alone my resolve had diminished. Disintegrated. Gone as though it had never been there. I'd never had this problem before. If I saw something or someone I wanted, I went after it. This paralyzing fear Roxas had over me was entirely new, and very inconvenient.

I'd began gathering my things to leave the classroom. Normally I'd just wait the hour in my classroom grading papers or something before my next class started, but I wasn't really in a mood to be lingering around when Roxas was lingering around too.

"Professor," I suddenly heard Roxas' voice call out.

I turned around and saw him sitting in that front desk again.

"Do you have anywhere in particular to be right now?" he asked me.

I stopped packing my things and pulled out a cigarette.

"Why do you ask?" I inquired, reaching for my lighter.

"Well I was wondering if I," he began, "if I could, If I could stay—I'm sorry, is there something you're missing?"

I couldn't find my lighter, and in the process of looking for it, must have been making a strange sight of frantically frisking myself.

At his words though I immediately stopped and apologized.

"Sorry," I said, "do you have a light?"

The question was more a fleeting hope than anything. Hardly any of the youngsters these days were smoking, what with the tobacco commercials-

"Here," Roxas (now on his feet) said, handing over a fancily decorated silver lighter that reminded me of one I'd had years ago.

Surprised, though not ungrateful, I took the lighter from his hand, being careful not to make any skin contact with him. I could only imagine what sort of effect _that_ would have on me.

I lit my cigarette and carefully handed him back his lighter.

"What were you saying?" I asked with a wispy cloud of smoke, and avoiding eye contact.

"Well I was wondering, of course if it's not too much trouble, if I could stay here until my next class starts," Roxas said, "About an hour from now. It's right down the hall. If you were going to stay here, that is."

My immediate reaction was to reject the idea. A million and two legitimate reasons sprang to mind over why to turn the boy down. I was even rehearsing exactly how I would phrase my rejection.

"I don't mind," is what came out of my mouth.

I inwardly cursed myself as Roxas took his seat again, and after a few moments, decided to take one myself. I sat behind my desk and pulled out some papers, to at least make it seem like I was doing something.

"You were at the airport," he suddenly said.

The airport. Where I was first cursed, or blessed, I hadn't decided yet, with first laying eyes on Roxas. Yes, I was at the airport.

"Mm-hmm," I said, cigarette in my mouth, not bothering to look up from my page.

"I don't know if you saw me or not"- I had to refrain from emitting a loud "HA!"- "but my brother was the one who hit you on the head with that bowling ball."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"That was your brother eh?" I said, letting out another collection of smoke from my lungs.

"Yeah," Roxas affirmed, "How is your head, by the way?"

In all honesty, the pain in my head had been effectively extinguished when I laid eyes on you. Immediately I wanted to take you home, throw you in my bed, and have my way with you.

"Fine," I responded.

"Well that's good then," Roxas said, "my brother was really worried about it. He was willing to miss his flight back home to make sure you were ok."

So it was only his brother's plane?

"Nice kid," I commented.

"He's only two years younger than me," Roxas said, "but everyone says he looks years younger."

The topic of his age snagged my particular attention. I gathered enough courage to look up at him.

"How old are you?"

"19," Roxas responded.

I grimaced on the inside. It would have made me feel a little less guilty if I weren't having such intense emotions over a teenager.

I looked back down at the paper work I had in front of me, just the rosters for my other classes.

"I just moved here last year," Roxas went on, "for my first year of college. All my friends are on the Destiny Islands."

I noted the notable lineage. Only the wealthy (and their help) lived there.

Maybe he was the help...

"Professor," Roxas called.

"Axel," I corrected him.

"Am I bothering you?"

_In a sense._

"No," I said, flipping over some of my rosters, then realized I wasn't being particularly cordial. "I moved here for my first year of college too. Eleven years ago..."

Just saying that made me feel archaic. I was starting college when he was starting the third grade. **(1) edu system**

"Where're you from?"

I grabbed a pen to start doodling on something.

"Radiant Garden," I responded, "but I stayed on the Destiny Islands once, a few years back... for... an occasion."

Said occasion was a family reunion, which ultimately ended with everyone from my family being indefinitely banned from the hotel we were lodging in.

I sighed out a puff of smoke in recollection of the events before resuming my doodles.

Roxas was silent for a few moments, but long enough to cause me to look up at him questioningly. He seemed to be lost in thought, because his eyes were gazing very intently at the dirty, tiled, and uninteresting floor.

Then suddenly those eyes were pointed directly at me.

"Wanna play cards?" he suddenly asked, "that's if you're not too busy..." he pointed at my papers, my now defiled rosters, "doodling."

I felt my face heating. _I _felt _my _face heating up. I was blushing. I can't recall a time in my life where I ever blushed. It was humiliating. And I flushed even _more_.

I shook my head and put my papers out of his sight.

"Why not..." I reasoned aloud.

He pulled a chair up to the opposite side of my desk after I'd cleared my papers from the surface and began dealing.

"Seven card stud," he said, shuffling the deck.

That was a version of poker I hadn't played in years.

He was in close proximity again.

"Two, four, one," Roxas muttered to himself, lips barely moving.

I was ensnared by those lips. I could imagine how they would feel against my own. I felt my own eyes close as mental images made their way into my head. I could very vividly imagine pushing him up against a wall, slipping my hand beneath his shirt, kissing my way from his ear to his neck-

"No bet right?"

I was jarred out of my fantasies by the sudden comment.

"Right," I said, clearing my throat. I didn't want to illegitimize this game by throwing in money. Gambling on campus was strictly forbidden. I looked down to see the table properly dealt. He'd taken a while getting the cards down. Maybe he was new to the poker scene.

15 minutes and ten games later, I found my suspicions to be true.

He sucked at poker. Mostly at keeping a straight face. And he talked all the way through every game. Talked, smiled, laughed.

I loved it every time he laughed.

Before I knew it, the 55 minutes that seemed like they would be filled with unbearable torture of self restraint were gone all too quickly, and Roxas gathered his cards before walking out of the room, looking back not once.

* * *

Weeks went by in a similar fashion. Tuesdays and Thursdays after my 12 o'clock class became what I was looking the most forward to in the week, even though every time was the exact same routine. All we would do was play cards. Talk and play cards.

I also learned a lot about him. His parents' names are Barbara and John, they are happily married, he only has one brother, Sora,—who shook the family with his open gayness, he cracks his knuckles a lot, he's had a dog since he was 13 named Pluto, he has a tendency to make the cutest faces when he's not talking, he doesn't like onions, mayonnaise, or bologna, when he was seven he fell off the monkey bars and permanently scarred a small part of his right forearm, when he laughs his eyes could light up the sky, his favorite color is green, his second favorite color is red—I could write an anthology on the little facts, quirks, and details that make up Roxas.

But the burning lust I felt for him hadn't subsided in the least. On the contrary, I think I wanted him more, if that were even possible. The more I found out about him, it seemed, the more I wanted to keep on finding out. I wanted to know him better, and in a way that no one else knew him or ever would know him.

However... the stronger that desire grew in me, the guiltier I felt for harboring it.

And it's not like Roxas was a bad student—I'd go so far as to say he was a nerd. He always turned his assignments in at the earliest possible times. His essays were so well and thoroughly written that I almost felt as though it would be a mockery for me to try and offer him anything in the way of criticism. It made me feel like an incompetent teacher...

Until I read the rest of the class' mutilation of written word.

But we never talked about his schoolwork. That topic seemed a bit taboo to me. Like it would cross some undefined line. Like I would become more his professor, and he would become just that much more unreachable to me.

It was late one evening, about seven weeks into the semester and I heard a knock on my office door. Without waiting for a response, a purple haired professor let himself in and stiffly took a seat in one of the chairs I had there.

"You've only been here three years—two really— and they already give you your own office," he commented dryly.

I looked up at Zexion, too use to his rudeness by now to be affected by it in the least.

"What can I say?" I shrugged, breathing out a huff of smoke through my nostrils.

"And why do you always have a cigarette hanging out of your mouth every time I see you?" he asked, walking up to me and snatching it out of my mouth before promptly putting it out on the ash tray in my desk.

I shrugged, continuing to grade the paper I was working on.

"What do you need, Zexion?" I asked him. "I'm leaving in ten minutes."

"I came to talk to you about some rumors that have been flying around," he said. "Regarding you and a certain student."

I tensed up at the mention of Roxas, but tried my hardest to not let it show. I reached in one of my desk drawers for another cigarette.

"Talk away," I said, reaching for my lighter.

"I wish you wouldn't do that right now," Zexion said shortly.

I took a long drag once the cigarette was lit and put the lighter away, and blew out as defiantly as possible.

"You can get out," I smirked.

Zexion glared almost imperceptibly. If I didn't know him as well as I did, I wouldn't have caught it.

"You're dating a student?" Zexion finally asked.

Zexion wasn't a vulgar person, and I knew that when he said "dating" he probably meant something along the lines of banging, nailing, screwing, or fucking.

"How is that any of your business?" I asked a little incredulously.

"If word gets to the Dean," he went on, "it's gonna look bad on the whole department. They'll think we were helping you –or worse—that we're all doing the same thing."

I rolled my eyes at his paranoia.

"Is that all?" I asked, "here I thought you were getting a little jealous."

Zexion was gay. He just didn't know it yet.

"Well are you or aren't you?" he asked, a pink tint gracing his otherwise pale face.

I sighed a smoky sigh and set my cigarette down in the ash tray.

"No I'm not," I replied, "I don't know where you even heard that from in the first place."

Zexion nodded, the slightest look of relief on his face.

"I know how adamant you are about teacher/student relationships," Zexion went on, "And about all the girls who've thrown themselves at you. I thought maybe you'd finally given in."

I began packing my things up.

"Your concern is touching."

* * *

"Want a smoke?" I offered Roxas one day after class while he was shuffling the deck. I wondered how he looked when he smoked. It seemed a little uncharacteristic for him.

Wild fantasies about Roxas and how he'd look with a cigarette started to work their way into my head, followed by wild fantasies about what he would replace that cigarette with...

"I don't smoke," he said, shaking his head.

I stared down at the cards he was dealing in confusion.

"Then why do you carry a lighter?" I asked him.

He paused for a moment in his dealing, a long moment, before continuing.

"There's a story behind it," he began, "a long one. If you win this hand, I'll answer your question."

I frowned at him, not understanding his logic. In seven weeks of playing with him, he's never once beat me.

"Sure," I agreed warily.

Since there were no real bets, our hands always went pretty quickly. My finishing hand was a pair of kings, a pair of jacks, and a nine. Roxas' was a pair of two's, a six, a five, and a three.

I set my cards down and waited expectedly for his answer.

"You dropped it on the ground one day," Roxas explained, "and I picked it up."

I widened my eyes now, more confused than ever. That didn't make sense. Roxas had had that lighter since... at least since the second class I'd had him.

"What?" I began, "what are-"

He cut me off with a finger.

"I answered your question," Roxas said.

"Then answer another!" I exclaimed before I could stop myself.

Roxas looked a little taken aback at first, but soon looked like he was fighting hard to suppress a smile of sorts.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so worked up," he said.

After some thought I realized the truth in his words. I took a moment to recollect myself, as best as I could around Roxas anyway, and reached for a cigarette. I took out my lighter and took what was probably the deepest drag of my life.

"Let's play another game for it then," I said, putting my lighter away and deciding to deal the cards myself. "If I win, you answer all my questions."

"Fine," he quickly acquiesced. "And if _I _win"- I scoffed at the improbability of the thought- "you have to answer _my _questions."

"Alright," I agreed, dealing two cards face down and one face up. I set the deck to the side. He had the King of Spades showing and I had a four of diamonds. I frowned at the initial disadvantage on my part.

"Wanna up the wager?" Roxas suddenly asked.

I couldn't imagine any way to up a wager of question answering.

"How?" I asked.

"Throw in a request," Roxas said.

I knitted my eyebrows.

"You mean whoever loses has to adhere to a request, any request, from the winner?"

"That's the idea," Roxas smiled.

It sounded dangerous to me somehow, but how could I resist that smile.

"Fine," I replied, and dealt another face up card to us both. This time he got the Jack of Spades, and I got the six of diamonds . I looked up at Roxas trying to ascertain what sort of mood he was in. Usually when we played, he was as easy to read as a Dr. Seuss book, but today his face was like Dante's Inferno.

I frowned and dealt the next two face up cards, and then finally the last down. At the end of the showdown, I laid all my cards down on the table.

"Straight flush," I smirked, showing a three, four, five, six, and seven of diamonds in front of me.

The only way he could beat that is if he had a Royal Flush, which was about as likely as—

"Royal flush," he said, revealing the Ace, the King, the Queen, the Jack, and the Ten of Spades before himself.

I stared at the sequence of cards in front of him.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Roxas was grinning ear to ear in satisfaction and began gathering his cards to put away.

I hadn't noticed when, but my cigarette had fallen out of my mouth and somewhere onto the floor. I stomped it out and slumped in my chair, taking out a new one.

Roxas grinned merrily as I lit my new cigarette.

"Well are you gonna ask me something or what?"I asked irritably.

"Are you in a relationship right now?" he asked.

I almost choked on my cigarette.

"No..." I answered.

"Are you straight?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"No..." I repeated.

"Have you ever been in love?"

That one was a little more difficult for me to wrap my head around. Before I met Roxas that answer would have been a solid "No", but now I just wasn't sure anymore.

"I'm not certain," I said, a little too honestly.

The sound of the clock ticking behind me had never seemed so loud before. I looked behind me to see that I still had another half an hour left before my first class. Was I going to have to sit through half an hour of interrogation regarding my love life?

"Do you remember me?"

I turned to look back at him.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you remember me from before you saw me in your class?" he clarified.

My heart leapt. Was he talking about the airport? Did he know that I'd seen him? Did he know that I had been filled with a desire for him ever since I laid eyes on him? Could he see right through me?

I let another breath of smoke out.

"Where would I have seen you?" I asked, choosing my words carefully.

He looked a little dejected at my response. He stared at me for a long minute, long enough to make my heart start racing, before reaching in his pocket and setting the lighter on my desk.

"About eight years ago, my brother got angry at our parents and ran away from home," Roxas began, "He was 10 at the time... or nine about to become ten. At any rate, our parents were worried sick about him. He'd been gone for hours and the sun was starting to set. The authorities said he wouldn't be considered 'missing' for 24 hours.

"I was sitting outside the whole time, hoping that I'd see him if he came back. I was on the porch—veranda actually. At the time just when the sun was starting to disappear behind the other houses, I see my brother come running back onto our front yard, laughing as though nothing had happened.

"Of course my parents were furious with him, but they were mostly just relieved he was back safely. I was in the corner of the veranda though, off to the side from the happy reunion, because my attention had been snagged by the man who was following him; the one who had apparently led him back home.

"He had long, spiky red hair, tattoos under his eyes, cigarette in his mouth, was very tall, and had outrageously bright green eyes. I was 12 at this time, and had never had a romantic inkling in the world, but I was very violently seized by the urge to go to that man. To follow him. To never leave his side.

"But my fear of such a strong feeling rooted me to the spot! I watched as my parents went and humbly, graciously thanked the man. They invited him to dinner—to which he declined of course. Said he had a plane to catch back to Twilight Town that night. They did ask him his name though, and when they did that, I listened closely.

" 'Axel,' he said. And as he was walking off of our lawn, something that shined in the remaining sun fell out of his back jean pocket and into our grass. I was gonna tell him about it, but I realized if I did that, I wouldn't have had anything left of him but a memory. So I waited until he was gone and went to get it.

"My brother later told me about how Axel had found him crying down by the beach, and how it was Axel that convinced my brother to go back home."

I hadn't taken a drag out of my cigarette at all since his story began from the pure shock of it all, and the burned remnants at the edge of the stick threatened to fall on my lap. I took my cigarette out and tapped the gray ash away onto the floor.

Eight years ago... that was when I was at that family reunion. I remembered going to the beach to take my mind off of the fiasco, and finding a little lost boy there. I remember everything Roxas had just described, but I was finding it a little bit hard to grasp the true meaning of it all.

"I'd determined then and there to meet with you again one day," I heard him say, "and give this lighter back to you. It took me a year after arriving at the college to actually approach you, especially since you don't teach any lower levels of Literature. The airport was just an accident... but I didn't think that was the right place..."

He paused and looked at me warily.

"Is it weird for you to hear this?"

There were a million things going through my mind. If he wasn't careful with his next few words, I couldn't guarantee... I started mumbling to myself- a nervous habit of mine (aside from my smoking).

I slumped lower against my chair and covered my eyes with the hand my cigarette was in, mumbling about all the reasons why this was wrong. It was simple back when they were just rabid fantasies—there was no sign of reality there. No repercussions or consequences for the actions.

I think Roxas was starting to say something, but I wasn't really listening to him anymore.

I was still in my own little world, focusing on little details. Everything that could go wrong, everything I was certain would go wrong. What this would mean for the school if we were found out. What this would mean for me. Everything in the world that had something to do with the situation at hand, and a few that didn't, seemed to cross my mind. I was finally prepared with an answer, after an amount of time that I hadn't been keeping track of, but when I opened my eyes to look at Roxas, he was gone.

How long had he been gone? How long had I been mumbling to myself like a crazy person? Even the chair he usually had pulled up to my desk was back where it belonged.

I looked down on the surface of my desk and saw that he'd left the lighter behind.

"Shit," I swore under my breath, and violently packed my things up. There was no fucking way I would be able to teach the next class the way I was feeling right then. I scribbled the assignment and a short memo to the remaining classes I had for the day on the outside of the door and went home, too nervous to even smoke on the way there.

* * *

"Axel..."

I looked up from my cigarette to stare at Kairi, who obviously sensed my do-not-disturb mood, but decided to call my name anyway.

"Do you... maybe..." she ventured carefully, "wanna talk about it?"

All I did was stare. The last thing I wanted to do about my situation was talk about it. But if Kairi was anything like her mother, she wasn't going to let a subject drop so easily.

"Not particularly, no," I responded.

"Is this about that one student?" she asked as though I had given her an open invitation.

"I could have sworn I told her no..." I repeated to myself.

"Did you screw things up?"

"It's a little amazing how she keeps going like that..."

"Things aren't going to get resolved if you just sit there and brood like that," she said, deciding to make herself comfortable on the couch beside me. "You should call her up and work things out. Often times these situations are just misunderstandings."

I wondered if I should throw in the towel now and save myself the energy of trying to win the argument.

"So are you going to fill me in on the details or do I have to keep making general statements?" she asked when I made no response.

I kept smoking in silent deliberation. A friend my own age would be better to discuss this with. As I went down the list of friends in my head trying to find one I could talk to about deep personal matters...

And came up with nothing. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a loser. I have plenty of friends. Just... friends you'd take to a club or a party, and not so much friends you'd call when you needed a shoulder to lean on.

That is really sad.

The closest thing I had to something like that would have been Roxas...

A sighed a smoky sigh at this realization and frustratedly smashed the rest of my cigarette into the ash tray on my coffee table.

"He fucking confessed to me and I just sat there mumbling like an idiot!" I blurted out with a groan, slumping backwards against my couch.

"He..." Kairi said to herself, "that would explain that lube I found..."

I looked at her incredulously.

"Right, sorry," she said, "What are you worrying for! Silly, don't you watch TV? Read books? This is one of the easiest misunderstandings to correct! Just set him straight...er... let him know the facts the next time you see him. He probably thinks he's been rejected right now. Just let him know how pathetically enraptured by him you really are and things should be alright. No need in beating yourself up about it. Today's Wednesday? You'll see him again tomorrow."

She threw a big goofy smile my way, patted me roughly on the back a couple of times, and got up and went fishing through the kitchen.

How did she always have a way of simplifying the things that rattled my brain to the point of aneurysms.

She was right... all I had to do was wait and then calmly explain things to him after class the next day, and whatever happened from there was up in the air.

Except Roxas didn't show up for the next class. Or the class after that. Or the class after that. And when two weeks had passed and I hadn't so much as seen Roxas around campus, (and trust that I had gone searching), panic had seeped well into me. Was he avoiding me now?

How was I supposed to go about finding him? I didn't have any contact information from his student information, and his classmates didn't know anything. The registry showed he'd dropped out of my class.

I sighed in frustration in my office late one evening, drawing on the last bit of my cigarette. The last few weeks had been hell, and I couldn't even figure out why, which only served to make matters worse.

I'd gone longer without hearing from purported lovers without so much as thinking twice about that person. A few days without word from Roxas, who I wasn't even in a relationship with, and suddenly the whole world was crumbling. It was sad. And pathetic.

The lighting was dim and the air smelled like nothing but smoke, despite both windows being opened, so when Zexion walked in, he brought with him a loud fit of coughing.

"Dear"-cough-"God," he continued coughing very violently, "How many of those things have you had?"

As my cigarette became too short, I took it out of my mouth and jammed it in the ash tray with the countless other butts.

"Not many," I told him, pulling out another, "need something?"

Still coughing slightly, he tried waving the smoke away with the books he was carrying—to no avail.

"Well, the rest of the staff in the building held a vote behind my back to send me in here to see what your foul mood was about lately," he explained, now resting at one of the windows to breathe. "And you're testing out if our sprinklers work or not."

I searched my pockets for a lighter and came across the one that Roxas had left. I stared at it, unlit cigarette hanging out of my mouth. This was the only proof I had that he wasn't some figment of my imagination. It had been on my person ever since he left it on my desk, and I had used it so much in the last two weeks, that when I tried to light my cigarette with it just then, I realized it was out of oil.

Frustrated even more, I threw the reminder of my misery angrily at the wall, causing Zexion to jump a little and raise an eyebrow at me.

"My mood's just fine," I said, putting the cigarette back in its pack.

I heard Zexion sigh and move to pick up the lighter for me. I avoided eye contact as he approached my desk.

"Well if you're ever ready to talk about it," he said, placing the lighter in front of me, "You know where you can find me."

He walked back out of the room, letting out tiny coughs as he did. I looked down at the undamaged lighter with a scowl, and noticed a tiny piece of white paper sticking out from inside of the lid. Reaching forward to grab it, I had to squint to make out the miniscule writing on the paper that looked like the penmanship of a ten year old.

"Property of Roxas. Please return to: 583 Waterbury Way, South Destiny Islands."

My eyes widened when I realized what I had in my hands. Immediately I stood and gathered my things.

* * *

Plenty would call it rash to rush to the airport and spend ridiculous amounts of money for the first plane out to the Destiny Islands from Twilight Town (a 10 hour trip), and honestly, so would I. But a rush of emotions were clouding my normal, rational thought.

Because if I had been thinking rationally, I would have at least went home to tell Kairi what I was about to do. If I had been thinking rationally, I would have at least gotten some gum to quell my smoking urges because planes don't allow that on board. If I had been thinking rationally, I would have at least packed some clothes.

My anxiety was eating away at me, and I'm pretty sure it was apparent, since the passengers sitting around me were looking at me like I was a freak. And maybe I was. How many people would do what I was doing? How would Roxas react? Would he think I was stalking him? Was I stalking him? Should I have just moved on and tried to forget about him?

No. That was just impossible.

Whatever happened, however Roxas reacted, I had to know that I did everything in my power to keep him from getting away.

That's what I kept telling myself all the way up Waterbury Way, the next morning, all the way up to 583. That even if he had changed his mind, I had done everything I could. That even if he was scared off by my stalker-like ways, I would leave knowing it was out of my hands.

But I knew it would probably be a crippling rejection worse than I had ever experienced before and it would reduce me to a pathetic pile of meat and bones where a man once stood.

But I wasn't going to think about that.

"You don't have to pull all the way into the drive way," I told the cab driver, and got out of the car.

"Have a nice day," the driver said in his harsh voice that contradicted the sentiment as I handed him his money.

I only nodded before turning to look at the huge two story house painted an immaculate white on the corner of the suburbs. It was paneled wood on the outside with some of the most ornate windows I'd ever seen. I heard the cab driver drive off behind me and slowly my legs willed themselves to move forward. I opened the gate of the white metal fence that was along the perimeter of the lot and walked along the cemented path through the healthy green grass on the lawn.

I looked around, trying to remember the house. Roxas said I had been here before, after all. But nothing about this house particularly grabbed at my memory. I remember the first time I came down this street, thinking that all of these houses were ridiculously huge, and that this one was no exception. That was it.  
There was no car parked in the driveway. Was it in the garage? Or were they gone? Was there a car there before?

On my way to the door, I started going over what I would say in my head. How I would say it. What the most normal and soothing way was to explain my randomly showing up at his door was, and how to explain that my silence was really only from shock, and not from the fact that I found him repulsive or anything like that. But maybe I could think of some smoother way to say it... What was I supposed to say?

That I loved him?

Did I love him?

Would it weird him out if I told him that?

I couldn't say that I liked him. We weren't high schoolers.

I'm attracted to you. Nah, that sounds too robotic.

Why hadn't I thought of the dialogue before I got on the plane? **(2)**

I got up to the front door and stared. Stared at every carving in the white, wooden separator. Stared at the curtains on the other side of the glass pane in the middle. Stared for a lot longer than I should have been staring at the door before I finally rang the door bell.

I heard something on the other side of the door tumble and crash into something else, and someone yelled out a string of swear words.

Maybe I'd come at a bad time...

Just when I was about to start backing away, the door swung open, and staring up at me were the pair of blue eyes I hadn't realized I missed so much.

Roxas' expression was shocked, to say the least. Now here was where I was supposed to start explaining. What had I finally settled on saying?

Roxas opened his mouth to speak.

No! That was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be the one to speak first. That would mess everything up. I was here to explain. He was supposed to listen. Didn't he get that?

"Axel-"

I placed my hands on either side of his head and bent down to kiss him. A quick, innocent kiss is what I had intended, but how could I resist when his mouth was already opened like that?

I used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, caressing the inside of his mouth with my tongue. It was hot, and the feeling sent electricity charging through my veins. It was more thrilling of a feeling than I had even imagined. I found myself becoming guided by the feeling autonomously. I didn't tell my hands to snake their way down sides and under his shirt. I didn't tell myself to push him against the wall and instill even more passion into the kiss. Those things sort of just happened.

But then I felt Roxas' hands find their way to my chest, to push me away I had assumed. It's the natural reaction if someone just showed up at your door and started kissing you. But when his lips started to move, and he started to respond to the kiss—Well, how was I supposed to stay in control then?

I felt Roxas stop supporting his own weight and I bent down on my knees with him as he slid down the wall. That was when I finally broke apart. His eyes were glazed over, not looking at me, his breathing was hard and irregular, his lips were still slightly parted, and just looking at him made me want to ravish him even more.

"I don't know if I love you," I spoke, "But I do know that I don't want you gone, and I can't really picture my life without you in it in some way. My silence wasn't from rejecting you, it was because I was too shocked from your story, and I'm a freak who starts mumbling to themselves when he's faced with a new revelation. Because the truth of the matter is that I'm so crazy about you, it doesn't even begin to make sense, so please stop avoiding me."

Roxas had regained his breath and was staring at me with eyes that said he was still trying to get a grasp at what was going on right now. Had I come on too strong? Too fast?

"Axel," Roxas finally spoke, "I wasn't avoiding you. My dad is in the hospital so I dropped all my classes to come home for the rest of the semester. My brother will be here tomorrow too."

"..."

I stared at Roxas in disbelief, still processing what he had just said to me.

"What?" I asked.

"My dad had a heart attack," Roxas affirmed, "My mom's at the hospital with him right now. He's coming home tomorrow."

I stared at him and a sense of embarrassment and humiliation overtook me. I heard Roxas laugh as he patted the top of my spikes.

"How did you find me anyway?" he asked.

I reached in the right pocket of my slacks and pulled out the lighter that I'd stuck the little piece of paper back in.

"You wrote your address on the paper," I explained, "which, by the way, wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about things. Anyone could have found that paper."

Roxas took the lighter out of my hand and looked inside the lid at the tiny rectangle of paper.

"I was 12 when I wrote this," he said, "I wasn't equipped with all the wisdom of the world."

I wasn't really concerned over that though. If he hadn't had that lapse in judgment, I wouldn't have found him. Granted, he probably would have showed up next semester...

I inwardly groaned again at my irrational actions and how stupid I must be.

Roxas seemed to pick up on it that though, because he wrapped his arms around my head.

"But I'm glad you came," he said, resting his cheek against the top of my head. "And, you know... nobody else is home right now."

* * *

**Dooooneee! lol. so yah, i started this fic like, two weeks after i finished axis, and i JUST finished it like... today. haha. good times good times....**

**So, I deviated from the emphasis of teacher/student relationship again! ack! there was supposed to be man sex in the calssroom! i guess i just have no affinity for that scenario. :(**

**I also exceeded my intended word count by, oh say, 7000 words. I thought about breaking it into chapters, because so many words in one chapter can scare off prospective readers, but i decided the hell with it. if it's good enough, word will get around.**

**(1) I know a lot of you prolly arent familiar with the u.s. schooling system, but i don't know what the equivalent of this is in other countries—what form or anything. this is the.... 3****rd**** grade, which normally is pretty much fifth year of school—if you went to preschool (at 4 years old) 4****th**** year if you didn't. The average third grader is around 8 yrs old.**

**(2) this was more me grilling myself than Axel. lol.**

**Oh yeah, i almost forgot--- if you got thru this whole mini epic, plz review! n_n**

**and sorry for the lack of real lemon here. i just couldnt make it work with the time span here and the already outrageous word count. I promise the next fic i spit out will REVOLVE around lemons. pinky swear.  
**


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